Pendragon

TWO

We made landfall in the bay below Muirbolc. Commanding Barinthus and his men to hold the ships ready to sail, we made our way at once to Fergus' stronghold, which we found utterly abandoned. The houses were vacant and the hall was silent, though cattle stood in the pen and there were horses in the stable. We dismounted and stood in the yard, wondering where they had gone, and when. Gwenhwyvar moved towards the hall.

'Allow me,' Llenlleawg told her, darting ahead. He disappeared inside and emerged but a moment later to announce: 'It is not long abandoned! The ash bed in the hearth is warm yet.'

Gwenhwyvar remounted her horse. 'We will go to Rath Mor,' she said. 'It may be that Conaire knows what has happened here.'

We turned our horses and hastened into the wood on the trail leading to Conaire's stronghold. We had not ridden far, however, when Llenlleawg halted in the track ahead and held up his hand. 'Listen!'

I paused and attuned myself to the sounds around me. Birds warbled overhead, and the horses champed and chafed the ground with their hooves. Beyond that, the light breeze fluttered leaves in the higher branches, and higher still, a hawk keened its lonely cry. Was this what had halted Llenlleawg?

No. There was something else. I heard it now-as if coming on a wave of the wind: the wailing shriek I recognized at once as the screech of the Irish pipes.

'It is the piobairachd of battle,' the Irish champion said. 'There must be a fight.'

'This way!' cried Gwenhwyvar, pushing past us and away. We continued on the trail for a short distance, then Gwenhwyvar led us off the track beside a small brook, reduced to little more than a bare trickle through the undergrowth.

It was cooler down in the little dingle, and as we splashed along I noticed the sound of the pipes growing gradually louder, until… mounting the bank of the brook, we burst from the tree-lined shade and onto a broad wood-surrounded meadow adazzle in the sun.

And there on the meadow were two mounted forces arrayed and positioned for battle. Between these, alone and on foot, facing one another were Conaire and Fergus, brandishing the huge two-handed cldimor, the ancient clan sword. Both blades glinted as the combatants whirled them around their heads.

Gwenhwyvar took one look at the flashing swords and lashed her horse. 'Yah!' she cried, and galloped across the meadow, yelling, 'Stop that! Stop it, I say!'

'Father!' the queen shouted, flying directly to the centre of the clash. She slid from the saddle before her mount had stopped. 'Are you mad? What are you doing?'

'Stay back, daughter,' Fergus answered. He was stripped to the waist and gleaming with sweat and oil. He had been anointed for battle and the sunlight made every muscle glisten and gleam. There were leather bands at his wrists and binding his legs from knee to ankle. In all, he appeared a Celt from another time as he leaned upon his great weapon, breathless from his exertion. 'This is a fight to the death.'

'This is absurd,' Gwenhwyvar contended. 'Put up your swords, both of you!' Aside from a neat cut on Conaire's arm there was little evidence thus far of any deadly intent.

'Stand aside, woman,' King Conaire told her. 'This is between Fergus and me alone.'

The pipes screeched on, skirling loudly. 'Silence!' Gwenhwyvar screamed at the pipers, who faltered to a squawky stop. She turned back to the two kings, fists on hips, and, in a tone that brooked no foolishness, demanded, 'Now tell me, why are you standing out here hacking at one another like Finn mac Cumhaill and Usnach Blue Shield?'

'Do not think to intrude here,' Conaire growled. 'We mean to settle this before the sun passes midday.'

'Do your worst, Conaire Crobh Rua,' Fergus said, tightening his grip on the great sword once more.

'Answer me!' commanded Gwenhwyvar, addressing Conaire. 'Why are you fighting?'

Fergus spoke first. 'He has heaped dishonour on the tribe of Guillomar, and I cannot allow such abuse to go unpunished.'

'Come then!' cried Conaire. 'We will see who is to be punished here. Stand aside, woman!' He made to raise the sword over his head.

Gwenhwyvar put her hand to the naked blade and held it; she confronted him, her face a hair's breadth from his. 'Conaire Red Hand, you tell me what has happened and tell it now.'

'I will not!'

'Conaire!'

'I – it was, it – 'he stammered, the weapon beginning to waver. 'It is all Fergus' doing. Ask him, for my sword speaks for me.'

'You hold the fealty of five lords, and are bound by strong oaths to protect them,' Gwenhwyvar told him, still holding the blade and keeping his arms aloft. 'Therefore, I demand to know why you are attacking one of your own kings,'

'I will tell you nothing. Ask Fergus!'

'I am asking you!'

Conaire was red-faced with anger, his arms trembling with the effort of holding the heavy sword above his head. 'Woman, you do vex me most sorely!' he growled. 'I have told you it is all Fergus' doing.'

'Liar!' cried Fergus, pressing close. 'Stand aside, daughter. Let me finish him now.'

'Father! Keep still.' She faced Conaire and demanded, 'Will you speak yet, or must we stand here all day?'

I glanced at Llenlleawg and saw that he was smiling, obviously enjoying the dispute. Even so, his spear was in his hand and ready.

The huge sword trembling above his head, Conaire rolled his eyes and gave in to her demand. 'You are worse than your father,' he snorted in disgust. 'Let my hands down and I will tell you.'

Gwenhwyvar, satisfied with his reply, released the sword and stepped back a pace. 'Well?'

'It is that accursed priest!'

'Ciaran has done nothing to you!' Fergus charged, thrusting forward.

Gwenhwyvar pushed him back, and addressed Conaire. 'What about the priest?'

'He stole six of my cattle,' the king complained weakly.

'Your cattle wandered away when your cowherd fell asleep,' Fergus said. 'The priest found them.'

'And took them to his own pens!'

'He offered to give them back!'

'Oh, he offered! He offered – if I would come and get them he would give them back.'

'Well?' demanded Gwenhwyvar, growing more exasperated with each passing moment.

'It is only so that he can rail at me with that – that creed of his,' Conaire insisted. 'He defies me to listen to him and says that he will make a Christian of me yet. But I will have none of it!'

'What are you afraid of, man?' Fergus challenged. 'Hear him out and make up your mind. No one can make you believe anything you do not want to believe!'

'And you, Fergus mac Guillomar, are a fool!' Conaire rejoined. 'You are beguiled with the babble of that priest. Most malicious of men, he has stolen your wit as well as reason. Christians! Look at you, Fergus, you cannot even fight your own fights anymore. I see what listening to priests has done to you, and I will not go down that path.'

Gwenhwyvar spoke up. 'I am a Christian, too, Conaire,' she said, coolly. 'Do you think me weak-willed and witless?'

Conaire raised a warning finger. 'Stay out of this, you. This is no concern of yours.'

'Is it not?' she asked. 'I rather think it concerns all who hold the Christ as lord over them.'

'Then draw your weapon and stand behind your father,' Conaire told her. 'And I will give you stroke for stroke what I give Fergus.'

'Go to it then!' cried Fergus. 'Do your worst!'

'Oh, stop it – both of you,' Gwenhwyvar snapped. 'Conaire, we do not have time for this. If it is a fight you want, listen to me now. The Vandal host is laying waste to Ynys Prydein. I have come to raise the warbands of Eiru to aid Arthur.'

Fergus was only too happy to be distracted from the tussle at hand. 'Did you mean to keep it from us, daughter? Why, my men and I are ready; we will put to sea at once.' He turned to his warriors, who stood looking on. 'Bid your kin farewell, men. Arthur needs us.' Turning back to Gwenhwyvar, he said, 'Arthur in need? Say no more. That is good enough for me.'

Conaire frowned. 'Well, I care little for that. I will not go.'

Gwenhwyvar could scarce believe the man's stubbornness. 'After all Arthur has done for you?' she challenged. 'Is this the thanks of a noble lord? Britain suffers now because Arthur helped you.'

'What son of king leaves his realm unprotected?' Conaire sniffed, putting on a brave display of indifference.

'He did it to save you!' Gwenhwyvar declared.

'More fool he,' replied the Irish king smugly. 'I did not ask his help, nor did I need it.'

'If not for Arthur you would be dead now-you and all your people with you, Conaire Red Hand!'

'And if I were dead I would not have to keep hearing about Arthur!'

Gwenhwyvar, her face flushed with rage, spun from him. 'Go, Father, ready your ships and men. Llenlleawg and I ride to rouse the southern lords.'

'This lord will not be roused,' Conaire insisted. 'Nor any beholden to me.'

'Go your way, Conaire,' Gwenhwyvar told him. 'You are of no consequence anymore.'

'I will not go -'

'Well and good!'

' – and neither will I allow my lords to sail to Britain,' he said. 'This is no concern of the Uladh or its kin.'

'Arthur needs help and I am pledged to give it,' Fergus said. 'All I have I owe to him. More, he is my kinsman through the marriage of my daughter. I am going to help him.'

'And I say you will not go.'

'And I say I will!'

'You will not – '

'Silence!' Gwenhwyvar screamed. She faced the Irish king squarely. 'You can choose not to help us,' she said, anger seething from every pore. 'That is your right. But you cannot prevent Fergus from going if he is so resolved."

'No,' allowed Conaire, growing sly, 'I cannot prevent him from going. But – 'he turned a defiant gaze upon Fergus – 'if you leave, your lands are forfeit.'

'Snake! Snake!' cried Fergus. 'You cannot do that!'

'Stand back and watch what I do!"

'Do not listen to him, Father,' Gwenhwyvar said. 'Go and ready the men.'

'Since you are going,' Conaire continued, 'I advise you to take your priests and people with you, for I tell you the truth: there will be no home for you if you return."

'Take the land!" Fergus bellowed, drawing himself up with immense dignity. 'And I take back my oath of fealty to you. I once pledged myself to a true king, but you are not that man. Go your way, Conaire Crobh Rua. I am done with you.'

'What need have I of a faithless lord like you?' Conaire sneered. 'I will give your lands to men who honour their oaths and do not go chasing after priests of strange religions.'

Fergus drew breath to reply. Gwenhwyvar put her hands on his chest and turned him. 'Go now. Say nothing more.'

'Indeed,' her father replied, 'there is nothing more to say.'

He turned and hastened back to his waiting warband and the gathered throng of his tribe. In a moment they began moving away.

'I leave also, Conaire,' Gwenhwyvar said. 'My only regret is that I may not deal with you as you deserve. But hear me now: the day will come when you rue your shameful behaviour, and on that day may your stone gods save you.'

She turned, leaving him gaping after her. Gwenhwyvar swung into the saddle, wheeled her mount and galloped away.

Conaire turned to me and put out a hand, as if he would explain. 'You have had your say, O king,' I told him. 'May your hasty words be a comfort to you as you sit in your friendless hall.' I paused, allowing him to think about this. 'But it does not have to end that way. Put conceit behind you; join Arthur and help him now as he helped you.'

His handsome face tightened like a fist. 'That I will not do.'

'So be it.' I turned my mount and rode after the others.

When Fergus reached Muirbolc a short time later, he was less happy with his decision. He sat downcast on a stool while around him the clan prepared to leave their home for ever.

Gwenhwyvar did her best to console him, but she was anxious to be away once more.

'I am sorry,' Fergus sighed. 'I lost the land – land our fathers have held since the dew of creation was still fresh on the earth.'

'You did well,' Gwenhwyvar assured him. 'Better an empty bowl with a true friend than a feast with an enemy.'

'I lost the land.' He sighed, shaking his head sadly. 'I gave it to him.'

'Arthur has a surfeit of land,' she told him. 'I am certain he will reward your loyalty most generously.' That was all she said, but it remained with me for some time after.

Leaving Fergus to oversee the work, we three continued on. Llenlleawg led as he had recently come this way on an identical task. We rode first to Aedd – perhaps the most ardent supporter of Arthur among the southern Irish, and also the nearest – and, two days later, received a hearty reception.

'Hail and welcome!' Aedd called as we dismounted before his hall. The sun was well down, stretching our shadows long; we were travel-weary, and glad to quit the saddle. 'I give you good greeting, my friends.' The Irish king spread his arms wide in welcome. 'I have been hoping to see you again, but I did not think it would be so soon.'

We greeted and embraced him, and Gwenhwyvar said, 'It is no happy chance that brings us.'

'There is trouble,' Aedd said, glancing from one to the other of us. 'I see that it is so.'

'We have come to -' Gwenhwyvar began.

But Aedd would not allow her to demean herself by asking his aid. 'You have come to share the welcome cup with one who would be numbered among your many friends,' he said quickly. 'Come, take your ease.'

Gwenhwyvar, agitated at her inability to make herself understood, tried again. 'Would that I could,' she said, 'but, I fear we must -'

'You must not worry about anything while you are here,' Aedd said. He took her hand and drew her away with him towards the hall.

'Perhaps you should explain, Lord Emrys,' Llenlleawg suggested, watching his queen disappear into the hall.

'Let us trust Aedd in this,' I said. 'In any event it is late and we can go no farther this day.'

'I could ride to Laigin on my own,' the stalwart champion proposed.

'Stay,' I advised. 'Let us eat and rest and see what tomorrow brings.'

Aedd could not do enough for us. He commanded servants to wait upon us while we were with him – a man each for Llenlleawg and myself, and a maiden for Gwenhwyvar. He summoned forth the best of food and drink, and directed his chief bard and harpers to sing soothing music. When we finished eating, he engaged us in amiable conversation, but would not allow any talk of the trouble that had brought us to him. Thus we rose and went to our beds well satisfied with all, save the most important part of our task.

'I will speak to that man in the morning,' Gwenhwyvar vowed. 'I will not be put off again. It is well for him to sit before the hearth spinning his nets of fine words, but I am not a salmon so easily caught. I will speak to him at first light, and he will listen.'

'Then let it rest until the morning,' I remarked. 'It is a fine gift he has given us. We have enjoyed a night's peace, and the friendship of a generous lord – far from the battle clash and the carping of small-minded men.'

The queen bit her lip uncertainly. 'I hope you are right. I keep thinking of Arthur, and how he needs the aid we must bring.'

'That is a worry for tomorrow, Bright One.'

She smiled at the epithet and did indeed brighten. 'Then I will leave it there.' She leaned close, raised her lips to my cheek and kissed me. 'God be good to you, Myrddin. Sleep well.'

Gwenhwyvar's maid appeared with a rushlight to lead the queen to her sleeping-place. I watched them go, thinking how fortunate was Arthur to have a wife with such intelligence and courage. And so thinking, I asked forgiveness of the Great Light. 'More fool the man who regards her lightly,' I whispered. 'There beats the heart of a lioness beneath that breast of beauty. Yes, and an iron-clawed will sheathed in a lithe and supple form.'